Coalescence
by UchiHime
Summary: After viewing Snape's memories in the pensieve, Harry is given another option. When he goes back in time and change the course of history, how many lives will be altered? What sacrifices will he have to make? Time Travel. Mpreg. Paradoxes.
1. Letters

**Title: **Coalescence  
**Rated: **M  
**Pairings: **Harry/Severus main pairing, One-sided Regulus/Severus with the possibility of sexual relations and possible threesomes, Rabastan/Regulus developed over time, some instances of Harry and Severus with OC's

**Warnings: **Time Traveling,OOC (mostly Severus but a bit of everyone), slash, bottom-Severus, Mpreg, possible threesomes, time-paradox?  
**Summary: **After viewing Snape's memories in the pensieve, Harry is given another option. When he goes back in time and change the course of history, how many lives will be alter? What sacrifices will he have to make?

**UchiSays: **This is my first time travel fic and the idea has been in the making for a while, so please review and let me know what you think. I've read some really good time travel stories and some really bad ones. Hopefully this will be at least moderately good. I'm trying to stay away from all the cliches and overdone plot lines (which I consider to be different from a cliché) but really, there's only so many original takes on any given idea.

Also, I only have one other chapter written and I intend this story to be a long one. I've been sitting on this too long not to post, but I'm working other stories that have top priority. So, updates will be infrequent at best. Based on feedback, I may rearrange my priorities and give you more feedback more often.

Also, also, I always said that when I go to Hogwarts, I wanted an Elf Owl named Widgit. Well, when Voldemort took over the Ministry, he destroyed my Hogwarts' letter, so I couldn't get my Widgit. So, I gave Harry Widgit instead.

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**Coalescence**

**Chapter One: Letters**

Harry pulled himself out of the pensieve with more force than necessary, barely keeping himself from going sprawling to the floor. With shaking hands, he used his wand to retrieve the memories from the large dish and put them back in the little glass vial they'd originally been stored in and clumsily slipped the vial into his pocket. Then he stepped backwards away from the desk, accusatory eyes fixed on the memory viewing device. His back collided with a shelf on the wall behind him. His legs trembled, before they finally gave out and he sunk to the floor.

There was a war going on inside of Harry. Warring feelings of confusion, anger, regret, disbelief, hopelessness, respect, gratitude, fear, and determination all battled it out in Harry's mind and heart, trying to make themselves known and influence his decision. But he didn't really have much of a decision to make. What he'd just seen left him with only two options: accept what he saw and walk to his death, or deny what he saw and runaway leaving the world to fend for itself. Option one was terrifying to even think about. Option two was selfish and he felt shame just considering it. But why? Why couldn't he be selfish just this once? He'd lived his life for everyone else up until this point, and where had it left him. Trembling on the floor of the headmaster's office, all alone, with a death sentence looming in his immediate future, already knowing which option he was going to choose.

It wasn't fair. He'd fought so hard to stay alive this long, and now he knew it was all for naught. He'd thought Dumbledore was on his side. He'd thought the former headmaster cared about him more than this. Had Dumbledore only fought so hard to keep him alive only so he could die in the right way at the right time?

It hurt.

It hurt to think that Dumbledore saw him as nothing more than a sacrifice for the greater good. It hurt knowing that he was nothing but a pawn on Dumbledore's chessboard, a puppet dancing as the headmaster pulled the strings. That's all he was. A pawn. A puppet. Absolutely nothing to anyone. He'd thought Dumbledore cared. Harry had cared about Dumbledore. He saw the old man as something akin to a grandfather to him. And he wouldn't be lying if he said he'd thought of the old man as his savior. After all, it was Dumbledore that had sent Hagrid to get him when his relatives tried to hide him away. It was at Dumbledore's orders that he had be whisked away to this truly magical world.

Had that just been part of Dumbledore's manipulations? Were these acts contrived with the goal in mind to make Harry a complacent little fool willing to give anything for the safety of this magical world? And Harry had played right into his hands. He had been willing to give anything, do anything, no questions asked to save everyone else. If Dumbledore willed it, Harry would have done it. And now, Dumbledore willed his death.

Angry tears burned their paths down Harry's cheeks. It wasn't fair! He was only seventeen! His life was just beginning. He hadn't even truly lived yet! Why had it come to this? Why was this his only option? Why couldn't he have a chance at living? He'd had so many plans! There was so much he'd wanted to do with his life. He was young. There had been so much laid out before him. And now it was over.

Had Dumbledore even thought for a second that he was asking too much of Harry, of a child? Harry wasn't Jesus! He didn't walk on water! It wasn't his job to die for the rest of the world. Was his death at least worth more than thirty pieces of silver?

Harry sobbed.

He didn't want to die. No one wanted to die really, but Harry particularly felt a strong desire to keep living. Just knowing he had so little time left alive made him desperate for the chance to live his life. He could almost sympathize with Voldemort's insane desire to live forever.

Dumbledore had said death was nothing but the next great adventure, but Dumbledore was a self serving, manipulative, hypocritical, old fool. Dumbledore had lived for over a century, Harry hadn't even made it to two decades yet. Dumbledore had gotten to choose when he was going to die, Harry wasn't allowed that option.

Harry's magic whipped around him furiously as the self pity he felt slowly shifted to anger and resentment. The miscellaneous items on the shelves and desk around him began to shake and rattle under the onslaught of his furious power. He wasn't going to spend his last moments sitting here feeling sorry for himself. He jumped to his feet controlled by his rage. He angrily knocked all the items on one of the shelves to the floor with one furious swipe of his arm. He repeated the action with the next shelf. And the next. Then he went over to the desk and froze in his tracks.

The pensieve sat atop it looking so innocent, it's liquid contents gentle rolling within it's confines. A hatred like no other boiled up inside of Harry. He placed a hand on either side of the dish and lifted it. It was surprisingly light for a fluid filled container, but Harry knew it was heavy with a weight not at all physical. Carefully he raised the dish over his head and threw it to the floor with all his might.

He was almost disappointed when the pensieve didn't break in half and splash it's contents across the floor. The magic within the damn thing must keep it from being able to break or spill. Glaring at the memory viewing dish with distaste, Harry stepped around it and continued his destruction of the office. All the papers on the desk went up in flames that extinguished shortly after there was no more fuel on top of the wooden desk (it wouldn't do to burn down the office while he was still inside of it, after all.) He wasted no thought about whether or not he was going overboard when he began pulling drawers open and emptying them on the floor. He was filled with an anger that knew no limits. He emptied every drawer until he got down to the last. It was locked.

"_Alohamora_," Harry spat. A soft clicking sound told him the simple charm had worked. He slid the drawer open, determined to continue his destruction, but once more found himself frozen in place.

Inside the drawer, sitting on top of what looked to be a tan colored messenger bag, was a folded piece of paper with Harry's name on it, a potion's vial with a purplish colored potion in it, and a simple gold ring like what one would wear as a wedding band. He slowly, almost hesitantly, reached into the drawer and picked up the ring and paper. His name was written in a familiar scraggly scrawl he'd become accustomed to seeing in the margins of his returned potion's essays tearing his efforts to shreds.

All his anger evaporated.

"Snape," he said soft, his fingers lightly caressing the letters of his name. While the memories in the pensieve had nurtured in him anger and resentment towards Dumbledore, they had caused a deep feeling of respect and gratitude towards Snape to nestle into his heart.

Snape was just like him.

He was another pawn in Dumbledore's game. Another puppet dangling from the strings in Dumbledore's hands.

And Snape had died. Right in front of Harry, the man had died before Harry even knew of the good he'd done. Snape had loved Harry's mother so much he was willing to do anything for her. He had died to protect Lily's son. He, even at his last breath, had loved Lilly so much.

"_Look at me._"

Snape had gone to Dumbledore looking for help and redemption and had found only a life of subterfuge and manipulation until eventually he met his end. Snape would have died with his purpose unfulfilled had Harry not been in the right place at the right time. Harry would have never known any of Dumbledore's machinations had it not been for Snape. And Harry felt no anger towards Snape. He did not blame the potion's master for giving him this information. Instead, he saw Snape as a kindred soul, trapped in Dumbledore's web.

Harry placed the gold ring on the floor next to him and unfolded the paper.

_Mr. Potter,_

_If you're reading this, you've probably destroyed my entire office by now or are just being a nosy little idiot snooping through things that are not yours (as you are known for sticking you nose in other people's business.) For some reason, I cannot bring myself to be angry over that prospect._

_I will not waste your time or mine right now with long winded explanations. For once in your life, follow my directions. Take the potion, put the ring on your finger, and grab the bag in the drawer._

_Two paths diverged in a yellowed woods, and neither looked more promising than the other. In fact, both paths looked rather bleak. So, instead of picking blindly and justifying the choice with a lie saying it was the road less traveled by, why not turn around and find a new way to go. You'll be surprised by the difference it'll make, because it is truly the road not taken._

_Ce n'est jamais vraiment fini,_

_Severus Snape_

Harry placed the letter down and frowned. He wasn't sure what Snape was up to, but he'd already wasted a world of opportunity by not trusting the man. He picked the ring up from the floor and slid the cold metal onto his left ring finger. Then he grabbed potion and the tan colored satchel from the drawer and pulled the strap over his head. He slowly uncapped the potion, staring curiously at the dark purple mixture. He raised it to his nose and sniffed it. It smelled as horrid as Harry was sure it would taste. He moved it slowly to his lips. It wasn't poison, he knew that. Snape might have despised him for the last seven years and perhaps even longer, but Harry finally accepted that that man did not want him dead. He trusted Severus Snape with his life.

He downed the potion in one gulp, not letting it sit on his tongue long enough to get a full dose of just how badly it tasted. He closed his eyes and waited for to sit what it would do. A full minute passed and nothing happened. Harry wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he was slightly disappointed.

Now what? Was the ring a Portkey? Then it must be activated by a password. He picked the letter up from the floor and read it again. As far as passwords went, the closing salutation looked the most promising. Was it French? Was he supposed to translate it in order to activate the Portkey? Since Snape had spent six years insulting Harry's intelligence, Harry was sure he didn't expect him to be able to translate a foreign language. Maybe he just needed to read it aloud. He tried, and even knowing nothing of the language he knew he'd managed to butcher the short sentence beyond recognition. Maybe it wasn't the password.

He reread the letter. The last paragraph confused him. It sounded vaguely familiar…oh, he remember. It was referencing a poem one of his teachers in grammar school loved. She'd read it to the class and had a framed copy of it hanging from the wall in the classroom right by the door. Harry remember walking passed it every day, his eyes drifting over the words. The poem was called _The Road Not Taken_. That teacher had also had a banner with the last line of the poem written on it hanging over the blackboard. Harry would often stare up at it at random times during the class. _"I took the road less traveled by, and that made all the difference._" But who had written the poem, Harry couldn't remember.

Harry frowned, his brow crinkling in deep concentration. Who was it… Something cold…like ice…winter…snow…

"Oh!" He exclaimed, snapping his fingers at the sudden spark of memory. "Robert Frost."

He felt a familiar tug behind his navel, and he was gone.

…

Harry felt like he was going to be sick. He'd never been very fond of Portkey travel, but this time seemed exceptionally bad. Not only had he gone twisting and spinning helter-skelter through space causing his stomach to stage a revolt and try to escape through his mouth, but it felt like his body was being torn apart and stitched back together with a fishhook and no anesthetics while a quartet of monkeys banged pots and pans inside his skull. By the time his feet once again connected with solid ground, Harry felt queasy and dizzy and achy and confused. He stumbled over to a wall and instantly began to retch, not even taking the time to observe his surroundings.

Once he was done spilling the meager contents of his stomach across the ground, Harry leaned his back against the wall and squeezed his eyes closed trying to regain his senses. The Wizarding World really needed to come up with less...jolting methods of transportation. Everything except broom travel was enough to make people sick, and some people got sick on brooms too, so...

Harry took a deep, grounding breath and opened his eyes. He was leaning against the side of a building in what seemed to be an alleyway just out of sight of pedestrian traffic on what seemed to be a Muggle street. Except it seemed more like Wizards pretending to be Muggles, because all the passersby were wearing very outdated clothes, some of which were quite outrageous.

Harry stepped closer to the entrance of the alley and peered out at the street, trying to find a hint as to where exactly he was. The street looked both familiar and completely unknown to him. In the way he imagined a place would look after being away for a long period of time. Like leaving your hometown and returning years later only to find that progress had changed all that you knew. He was in London, but it was a London unknown to him.

A noise from overhead drew his attention away from the baffling sight of the London street. An owl circled above him, hooting out a call, before swooping down to land on the arm he outstretched for it. The bird was small, not much taller than Harry's hand was long. Harry stared at his hand. Something was strange about it. Something was off. His hand seemed...smaller. The bird hooted, once more drawing Harry's attention to it. It blinked it's large eyes, before nipping Harry's ears softly, as if chastising him for allowing his attention to wander.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled. "Do you have a letter for me?"

The bird nodded and raised it's leg. Harry quickly retrieved the parchment tied to it's foot. "Do you need payment or a reply?" The bird tilted it's head to the side and Harry almost swore it rolled it's eyes, before shifting it's position and resting comfortably on Harry's shoulder. Harry looked out the corner of his eyes at the little bird, before shrugging (earning a protest from both the owl and his own body as remnants of pain shot through him) and unrolled the letter.

He was once more greeted by familiar scraggly writing:

_Harry,_

_If you're reading this letter you should have arrived on the 31st day of August in the year 1973. You may be wondering how and why I've sent you so far back in time. Allow me to explain. The gold ring on your finger is a powerful magic artifact called a Cronus Key. The easiest way I can think of describing it is by calling it a cross between a Time Turner and a Portkey. Like a Portkey, a Cronus Key can transport you to any location set to it, and like a Time Turner it allows you to move through time. But compared to a Cronus Key, a Time Turner is little more than a child's plaything._

_Cronus Keys are powerful bits of magic and they only work with equally powerful wizards (or witches). They are also highly illegal. The reason they are illegal is because it's impossible to use one without changing time. And, as everyone knows, tampering with time is risky business. But there's a reason I have given you this object. To put it simply: I want you to change time._

_As I am unsure whether you and I talked before you received the Key, I think I should inform you that I am aware that Dumbledore left you with a task to complete and I know the details of the task. I also have information concerning that task that is crucial for you to know._

_On that Halloween night in 1981, when the Dark Lord tried to kill you, only to meet his own untimely defeat, he left a piece of himself behind in you. You are a Horcrux, Harry, one that even the Dark Lord is not aware of existing. Dumbledore was aware of this, and he left me to inform you of it. If you and I have not had the chance to talk, I know there's no reason for you to trust me. But I swear that I am not lying to you._

_I held nothing but the greatest respect for Dumbledore, but I shall admit to you that I did not approve of some of his actions. One of the actions is that he left you such a mission. That is why I have taken some actions of my own. I used the Cronus Key to set some things in place._

_In the bag I left for you, you should find enough money to rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron for one night, as well as a key to a Gringott's vault made under the name Henry Frost (and some pain potions, as I know you'll need them). You'll also find in the bag most everything you'll need for a year of schooling at Hogwarts. Tomorrow, a thirteen year old boy by the name of Henry Frost will board the Hogwarts Express for the first time. He will travel to Hogwarts School and be introduced as a transfer student from a private magic academy located somewhere near Cardiff. The headmaster is already expecting him._

_Henry is the orphan son of a pureblood wizard and a Muggle-born witch. They died when he was fifteen months old, and until he was eleven he lived with his Muggle aunt and uncle._

_Now, I know this has left you with one very big question. You were most definitely not thirteen years old when you departed from 1998, so how is it possible for you to be now? The answer is quite simple, the potion that you hopefully took before activating the Cronus Key in combination with the traveling through time and space acted as a deaging drought. If you paid attention in my class, you would know that there is supposedly no such thing as a Deaging Drought. But, supposedly, there is no way to travel back in time more than a couple of hours either, nor is is possible to survive the killing curse. And yet hear you stand, seventeen years old, in a thirteen year old body, twenty-four years in the past. You are quite the remarkable boy, but don't let this go to that over large head of yours, it was my doing that enabled some of these things. I created the potion special and it only works in combination with the Cronus Key. It is my gift to you._

_You have been sent back in time for a very important reason. I need you to destroy the Horcruxes and prevent the Dark Lord from making you into one. But before you do this, I want you to spend a few years a just another child. I am well aware of the sacrifices you've made in your life and of the pain you've gone through and I feel you deserve a chance to relax, as well as a chance to know your parents. Age thirteen is the youngest you could be deaged and still retain your seventeen year old mind, otherwise I would have sent you farther back as an eleven year old to give you the entire Hogwarts lifetime with your parents. But I am sure you will cherish the time you are given._

_Now, this was not entirely selflessness on my part. The esteemed Headmaster Dumbledore did an atrocious job of choosing capable professors during your attendance of Hogwarts. I believe you only had one good teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts in your entire six years there. And that is not at all comforting, considering the future rests on your overburdened shoulders. So, I implore you, please continue your Hogwarts education. I'm sure you are eager to get this war over with, but your education is very important. I know you have the luck of the devil, but I'll feel better knowing that we're pitting a fully qualified wizard against the Dark Lord and not just a glorified school boy._

_Do not worry, you have more than enough time to complete your education and your mission. If you take a look at the Cronus Key you'll see three sets of numbers wrapping around the band. These numbers countdown the years, months, and days until the Key will activate again and bring you back to the present. Essentially, I have given you eight years. More precisely, if you are reading this on the day you first arrived, I have given you eight years and fifteen days. Why this amount of time, you may ask? Well, that's partially to get you as close to Halloween of 1981 as possible, without you actually being there. (Events like what takes place on that night creates a lasting impression on the universe if you're there to interfere, who knows what the consequences may be.) But some of those years must go to re-doing your third through sixth years and attending your seventh year at Hogwarts, the rest of the time is for you to hunt down and destroy the Horcruxes. Your school years and summer vacations are a vacation. You are not a soldier here, not yet. Enjoy your rest, then fight when you're ready._

_Don't worry about trying to hide the Key from others, people who see it will assume it is a Betrothal Band counting down the time until your wedding. Such rings are quite common among purebloods._

_By this point, I'm sure you know where most of the Horcruxes are located, but as you are now in the year 1973 none of the ones you've found have been destroyed yet. There is no guarantee all the Horcruxes have even been hidden yet. I know for a fact that at least two of them aren't hidden until after 1977. As I said, you have been given the power to alter the past and change your future. _

_Now, as I said, tampering with time is very risky, and using a Cronus Key to tamper with time is even riskier. You face the chance of undoing the actions that made you travel back in time in the first place, which can cause time itself to unravel trying to undo the great paradox. I need you to write a letter to yourself along with a copy of all your memories, and leave them at Gringott's. Ask for a Time Capsule vault and the goblins will make sure you receive the letter and memories on whatever day you set. This is essential. Do Not Forget. Also, it is very important that you avoid making contact with Lily Evans after she falls pregnant and even more important that you never meet your infant self. Be careful._

_Harry, I must press on you that it is very important for you not to run headlong into this by yourself like the foolish Gryffindor you've played a being all these years, as we both know you were meant to be Slytherin. You have five years of schooling; use that time to gather allies to help you. Here's a hint, if Henry Frost boards the train and travel back to the farthest compartment he will meet someone that would make great a great ally with a little pressing._

_I'm giving you the chance to alter the course of time itself and in doing so save yourself and many others, do not waste this chance. Do not ask me why, but I have faith in you._

_Ce n'est jamais vraiment fini,_

_Severus Snape_

_P.S. The owl's name is Widgit. He is yours to keep._

"Widgit," Harry said as if testing the word on his tongue. The owl on his shoulder hooted, before taking a lock of Harry's hair into it's beak and tugging softly. Harry frowned. He wasn't sure if he wanted a new owl with Hedwig's death so fresh in his heart. Hedwig truly had been Harry Potter's first friend. But he wasn't Harry Potter anymore, was he? He was now Henry Frost. Most definitely going to be nicknamed Harry Frost, but still not a Potter. Perhaps Widgit could be Henry Frost's first friend.

Harry glanced at the letter in his hand and frowned again. There was so many questions he wanted to ask. The biggest one being _why_. Why had Snape done this? For him? Was this really a gift? A second chance at life? But why? What did Severus gain from doing this? Did he expect repayment? Maybe in the form of Harry saving his life? But Severus had drafted the letter in a way that showed ignorance of his own death at the time it was to be read. Snape didn't know he would be dead when he'd prepared all of this.

And then there was the tone of the letter. Severus had sounded...kind. Less harsh than normal. Not as much vitriol and bitter sarcasm. He'd sounded caring. Almost fond.

It was confusing.

Harry read the letter one more time, then drew his wand—Malfoy's wand, a wand that worked but wasn't his perfect match—and cast a simple spell. He spared on absent thought to the fact that he was now physically only thirteen years old so he might get cited for underage magic, but let the thought slip from his mind as he watch the paper go up in flames.

"Come, Widgit," he said softly, "Let's see what he's left for us."

Widgit hooted, and Harry stepped out onto the street.


	2. Galleons

**UchiSays: **Hello lovelies. So, the feedback from chapter one was pretty amazing. You all had such nice things to say and I hope that I can live up to your expectations. Since this is the last chapter I actually had written beforehand, I think I should mention that I am taking suggestions on what you all would like to see happen. I have a mental idea of where I want the story as a whole to go, but the little details are amenable to change. For example, some on AO3 suggested that I focus a bit on Snape's dad being abusive. That was such an absolutely lovely idea that I don't see myself not doing it. So, if any of you have suggestions, don't be afraid to speak up. Other than that, please continue to leave reviews. This is my first long Snarry fic and my first Time Travel fic, so I'm depending a lot on reviews to help me keep this going.

Thanks~

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**Chapter Two: Galleons**

While the Muggle world outside had looked almost foreign to him, Harry felt a comfortable familiarity when he stepped into the Leaky Cauldron. There was something about the Wizarding World that was...timeless—which may have just been a nice way of saying outdated. No matter how the world changed outside, the Wizarding World remained unchanged. Even it's far extremities, like the barrier between it and Muggle London, remained the same. It was dependable.

Harry gained a few curious looks when he stepped into the pub, but that was because he was a child entering alone and not at all because he was Harry Potter. Though the fact that his clothes were a bit big for him now and he was covered and dirt and grime from having walked off a battlefield also made him something to gawk at. Still, almost all of the people who stared at him upon entering lost interest almost immediately and went back to what they were doing, much to his relief. Still, it was odd being in a place where he was not recognized upon sight. Odd, but a relief.

Harry stepped up to the bar and waited for Tom the barkeep to grace him with his attention. As he waited, Harry frowned. The bar came up to the middle of his chest. He'd almost forgotten how small his thirteen year old self had been. Years of malnutrition and being stuck in a cramped space had stunted his growth. He'd hit a late growth spurt when he was fifteen and again when he was seventeen, but that had only added a couple centimeters. He most definitely was not towering over anyone, but being as small as he was now was a bit frustrating.

"What can I do you for, lad?" The person who spoke was _not_ Tom the barkeep. It was a woman who looked like she couldn't have been long out of Hogwarts. She had thick curly hair had hung to her waist of a color that resembled melted chocolate. Her eyes were a darker brown. Her smile was large and genuine. "I haven't seen you around here before," she commented. "I'm Carrie. I'll be working here in my spare time for the next few years with Uncle Tom while I do my unpaid residency at St. Mungo's. You are?"

"Henry Frost. Hogwarts' student."

"I guessed that student bit. First or second year?"

"It's technically my first year there," Harry lied easily, "but I'm thirteen years old."

"Well that bit did surprise me. You're such a wee lad, but I'm sure you get that way too often. So, you know what you need or are you gonna wait for your parents before you ask for anything?"

"I need a room, just for the night," Harry said. "Just for me. My parent's won't be coming."

"You're not a runaway are you?" Carrie asked, raising one eyebrow and setting her fists on her hips in a pose that made it quite clear what she thought of runaways. She gave a pointed look at Harry's clothes as if that justified the assumption that he was a runaway. It probably did. His clothes were too big for this thirteen year old frame, and they were covered in the miscellaneous dirt and grime that came from being on a battlefield. It seemed the potion that had deaged him had also healed his injuries, thankfully, but he still looked like a street rat.

"My parent's died when I was a baby," Harry stated, his face blank. "I live with Muggle relatives that think poorly of the magical world. Until recently, I was on scholarship at a private magic academy. Due to some crackpot embezzling funds, I lost my scholarship. With the money I inherited from my parents, I can afford a Hogwarts tuition, but my relatives can't be arsed to care enough about getting me to the train in the morning. My best bet was to stay in London tonight and make my own way to King's Cross. It works in my favor, because I need a trip to Diagon Alley anyway for some last minute purchases. Unfortunately, I had to walk most of the way here and had a run in with some big jerks that thought it fun to chase me and push me down multiple times, once in a dumpster." The lie spilled so easily from his lips that it surprised even Harry.

Carrie frowned. "I'm sorry. About your parents, your scholarship, the bullies, and those prats you call relatives. You're in luck, room four is open and it's undoubtedly one of our best. You'll get a special student discount, of course," she winked at him in a way that implied that she'd created the special discount just for him. "You get settled in the room and take care of what you need to in the alley, and be back in five hours for your student discounted supper. In the morning you'll get a free wake up call just in time for our courtesy student back to school breakfast, and I'll apparate you to Kings Cross myself."

Harry's eye's widened more and more with every word she spoke. "You really don't have to do all of that," he said quickly.

"I insist on it. I'd be offended if you turned it done, and you really don't want to offend a lady, Henry."

"She's right, lad," Tom the barkeep said, coming up beside his niece. "Just say thank you like a good boy." Widgit let out a peep and nipped his ear to add his opinion to the matter.

Harry blushed and hung his head slight. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"Good lad," Tom said. "Now, exactly how much of my merchandise did you give away this time, Carrie?"

"Half-priced room, half-priced supper, and a free breakfast."

Tom let out a loud sigh. "If your mother wasn't my favorite baby sister, I'd have words with you child."

"Uncle Tom, my mother is your only baby sister."

"Aye, and that too. Come, lad, I'll show you to your room." Tom walked down the bar and Harry rushed to follow him, calling a 'bye' and 'thank you again' to Carrie as he did so. Tom led him upstairs and showed him to room four, before bidding him a gruff farewell.

Harry stepped into the room and looked around. It was medium sized and a bit dingy, but slightly cleaner than the room he'd stayed in the summer before his third year the first time around. It had a double bed draped in a bedspread that seemed to have been a some a shade or blue, but now looked more grey. There was a desk on the wall at the foot of the bed and window that was charmed to overlook a place Harry was sure might have been in Australia somewhere.

Widgit let out a hoot and hopped off of Harry's shoulder. He flew over to the desk and landed on the back of the chair, blinking slowly at Harry who was still standing by the doorway as if to say 'why aren't you making yourself at home yet.'

"Right," Harry mumbled, walking over to the bed. He raised one arm to the strap of the satchel resting on his shoulder and raised it over his head, wincing in pain as he did so. "First things first, find the pain potions Snape said were in this bag, then look through what all else he put into it." The bag was not very heavy, nor was it bulging with contents, so Harry wasn't sure exactly how 'most everything he would need' could be in there along with a full term's worth of textbooks.

He set the satchel on the bed. The flap had a zippered pocket on it, so Harry thought that would be a good place to start looking. He unzipped the pocket and stuck his hand inside, surprised to find more space in there than he'd expected. Harry rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. Of course the bag must have had an expansion charm on it; Hermione couldn't have been the only person in the world to come up with such a thing. Harry was slightly relieved that his pocket only had a simple expansion charm and not a full wizard's space charm, or else he'd be digging in there for ever.

As it was, his hand fitted inside up to his elbow and his fingers brushed against what felt like a potion's rack. He stuck his other arm inside and carefully pulled the rack out. He'd been correct, it was potions. A rack of sixteen full potion vials, all clearly labeled. There seemed to be four pain potions, four calming droughts, two bone mending elixirs, two generic antidotes, two nutrient potions, and four sleeping potions. Harry uncapped one of the pain potions and drank it quickly. He felt almost instantaneous relief. He let out a pleased moan once all the pain in his annoyingly small body had abated.

Widgit hooted at him.

Harry shot a look at the small bird. "Patience, Dodo," he said, though his tone could be called fond.

Widgit snapped his beak at him in a manner that said 'call me Dodo again and we'll have some problems.'

Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to the bag. "Let's do this then," he mumbled. He began emptying the contents of the bag (the inside pocket of did contain a full wizard's space charm) across the bed. A half hour later, he stood back and took a full inventory of the contents. Inside the pocket where he'd found the potions' rack, he found a small pouch of galleons, and a Gringott's key.

In the main pocket he found a set of coursebooks (all the basics, as well a Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but no divination), the required Hogwarts' potion's kit, a rack of forty potions, quills, ink, parchment, quidditch gloves, a trunk, and most surprisingly a Silver Star broom (the newest model on the market in this time period).

"Look's like we'll have to go to the Alley for robes," Harry stated, "As well as a cage and treats for you. We'll stop by Gringott's first to make that Time Capsule vault Snape said we need and to take stock of our budget. See if we can splurge for a new wand. Malfoy's wand works, but I'd feel better with a wand that chose me from the beginning." He knew he wouldn't be allowed to buy his phoenix feather wand, the broken pieces of which were still nestled inside the moleskin pouch around his neck, but there may be another wand that that would choose him. He opened that pouch and stuffed the vial of Snape memories he had inside of it.

He repacked everything he had inside of the messenger bag and pulled the strap back over his shoulder. He gabbed the money pouch and Gringott's key and stuffed them into his pocket. "You coming?" He asked Widgit as he stepped towards the door. The owl gave him a hard hard look, before tucking his head under his wing. "Suit yourself then," Harry said, stepping out of the room and pulling up the door behind him.

He headed down the stairs and back into the pub proper. Harry saw Carrie over at the bar chatting with someone. He waited for her to finish her conversation, before waving to get her attention. "Henry!" Carrie said loudly, with a large smile, as she was greeting an old friend.

"Call me Harry, please," Harry said.

"Alright, what can I do you for, Harry?" Carrie asked, large smile still in place.

"I never paid for the room," he stated, raising his money pouch slightly.

"AH!" Carrie said, throwing her hands up in a gesture of faux exasperation. "I knew there was something I forgot. Here I am stuffing my head with all these medical terms, making the simplest things just melt out my ears. You deserve a discount for your honesty; I know some people who would have just kept the room and never mention not paying."

"Handing out discounts again, Carrie?" Tom yelled from down the bar. "Why not just give the lad the room for free?"

"I tried; he's too honest to take it."

"Good, lad," Tom called back. "Maybe I'll be able to stay in business after all. With this niece of mine giving stuff away in exchange for a smile every time I turn around, I thought I might have to close shop."

"I've never given anything away for a smile, Uncle," Carrie stated.

"I'm missing two fingers of some of my best fire-whiskey and there's no galleons in my pocket to back up that purchase. What they pay with then, a kiss?"

Carrie rolled her eyes. "You probably drank that yourself, you coot. Come on, Harry, I'll write up the bill for you stay. You're gonna pay what I say and not a knut more. No arguments."

"Everyone knows better than to argue with you, Carrie," one of the pub's patrons called out.

"And if they don't, they'll learn soon enough," another patron added on.

"Alright you lot, enough chattering before I pull out your tabs and make you pay it in full."

There were some laughs, but no one said another word.

Harry followed Carrie over to the bar and watched as she wrote up his bill. "A room for one night, three galleons, supper one galleon, wake up call and breakfast a courtesy. That will be four galleons total, and I'll accept payments in increments. One galleon now, the rest whenever."

"I think I'll pay the full total," Harry stated, reaching into the bag of coins and pulling out seven galleons. "And a tip for being so kind. So you're gonna take what I pay you, not a knut less. No arguments."

"Cheeky boy," Carrie said, taking the proffered coins. "Get out of my sight before I tie you down and force some food down your throat. You need some meat on your bones anyway."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ma'am? I'm only twenty-one! Get ye gone before I hex your eyes straight! And don't forget to come back for supper!"

Harry laughed and waved at Carrie as he headed over to the entrance to Diagon Alley. He pulled out Malfoy's wand and tapped the bricks in the correct combination. He stepped through the opening and was once more surrounded by familiarity. Diagon Alley proper never changed. The sub-alleys that branched off from it may adjust to the times, but Diagon would always be home to Ollivander's, Madam Malkin's, Flourish and Blotts, Eyelops Owls, Fortescues' Ice Cream, Gringott's, and the numerous other stores and venues that had stood proudly in their spots since the Alley had first been built. Harry smiled and set his path to Gringott's.

The alley was slightly crowded. There were a few other people dragging around young witches and wizards for last minute school shopping, as well people who seemed to have come on this day for the purpose of avoiding the school crowds, and what looked to be housewives simply trying to get out of the house some with their small children in tow.

Harry moved quickly through the small crowd and ascended the steps of the wizarding bank. He slipped through the large doors and made his way over to one of the goblin tellers. "How may I help you?" The goblin asked gruffly.

Harry smiled. This was a familiar face. "Hello, Griphook isn't it? My name is Harry... er... Henry Frost."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Frost, how may I be of aid?" His tone was less gruff. Harry had learned that goblins showed greater respect and courtesy towards wizards who showed respect towards them. The simplest courtesy Harry could show was to think of them as individuals instead of just faceless, nameless servants.

"I need to view my vault as well as set up a time capsule vault," Harry stated.

Griphook nodded. "I'll have someone take you down to your vault while I get the paperwork needed for the time capsule. Do you have your key?"

"Yes sir," Harry said, pulling the little silver key from his pocket.

"Dodgefin here will take you down and bring you back to me once you're done." Griphook waved another goblin over to them as he spoke. Dodgefin nodded upon hearing the instructions and motioned for Harry to follow him.

"Vault number?" Dodgefin asked. Harry read him in the number written on the tag hanging from the key, before ripping the tag off and stuffing it into his pocket. They got into the carts and raced through the tunnels down to the vault Snape had set up for him. "Key," Dodgefin demanded. Harry handed to him and stepped back as the goblin opened the vault.

Harry stepped inside and froze in place. There was a lot more gold in there than he'd expected. Of course, he didn't know exactly what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't nearly this much. Then again, the vault had to last him through five years of schooling and an additional three years of being out on his own, so...

"Dodgefin, sir, is there a way to check exactly how much gold is here?" Harry asked the goblin standing just beyond the door of the vault.

"Contents' checker is on the wall, there." Dodgefin pointed to a small plaque on the wall by the door that Harry hadn't noticed. He vaguely remembered seeing a similar plaque in his vault back in his own time, but had never taken the time to examine it.

Harry stepped over to the wall and read the little piece of bolted metal. His eyes widened at what he read. Surely this wasn't accurate. There was half a million galleons here! How could Snape have possibly left him so much money? The man had a teacher's salary! Harry doubted he'd seen half a million galleons in his life. Before his eyes, the number on the plaque changed. "What just happened?" Harry asked Dodgefin. "Why'd the number change."

"You just received a deposit from one of the businesses you're share-holder to."

"Businesses?" Harry asked.

"Yes, sir. I was here when your vault was set up the vault for you. Some very good investments were made in your name, Mr. Potter. You were left very well off."

"I'll say," Harry mumbled, his mind running in circles. Snape had said he'd used the Cronus Key to make arrangements for Harry's stay. One of those arrangements must have been investing in businesses that he knew was going to be profitable in the future so that Harry wouldn't have had to worry too much about money. "Wait, did you just call me Potter?"

"Very little of your wizard magic can fool goblins, Mr. Potter. Goblins are timeless beings; we can recognize all we've met in the past, present, and future. Just as we knew Severus Snape when he walked through these doors, displaced from time, we recognized you. But we shall respect your wishes to be known as Henry Frost in this time.

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Dodgefin," he mumbled. He took the coin pouch from his pocket and grabbed a few handfuls of galleons to put in it. He glanced at the contents' checker plaque and saw that the numbers had changed again, showing the amount he'd withdrawn. What a useful thing to have gone so long without knowing existed. He stepped out of the vault. "I'm done here."

"Come, then. Griphook should be ready for you now."

The trip back up to the surface seemed faster than the trip down to the vault. Harry wasn't sure he'd ever get used the the roller-coaster ride that was the goblins' carts. "Mr. Frost," Griphook called once Harry had reentered the bank lobby. "If you would step this way." He gestured towards a door leading to offices where wizards and goblins had private dealings. Harry nodded and followed him. They entered a small room and the door closed behind him, Harry felt a flare of magic in the air and new that privacy charms had activated when the door closed.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Griphook said, taking a seat behind the desk in the room. "I assume the time capsule vault will be addressed to your future self?"

"Yes sir," Harry said.

Griphook picked up a quill and made some marks on the parchment in front him. He must have gathered what he'd need and placed it in the room while Harry had still been down in the vault. "There are a few guidelines for time capsule vaults as well as some general rules wizards displaced from time are required to follow. For example, you're not allowed to leave money in a time capsule and a displaced wizard is not allowed to set up a vault that would lead to their future selves' monetary gain if the money comes from investments alone and no actual work on their part."

Harry nodded. The rules were simple and understandable. It wouldn't be fair for a wizard to use time travel as a way to fatten their own pocketbook.

"Wizards displaced in time are also not allowed to set up time capsule vaults containing harmful artifacts with it's intended recipient being a future enemy."

Harry nodded again. That also made sense. He hadn't even thought of setting up a time capsule vault with Voldemort as the intended recipient containing, say, a cursed magical artifact that would kill him as soon as he entered the vault. That would have been an easy way to end the war, though. Unfortunately the idea had been squashed before it could even be entertained.

"Once sealed, a time capsule vault cannot be opened until the date set on it. But you are under no obligations to seal the vault the day you set it up. Say, you set up the vault today, you don't have to sign for it's sealing until years down the line if you so wish it. As long as the vault remains unsealed, you're free to add and remove things from it as you please. But, there must always be at least one item in the vault or it will cancel itself. You are also allowed to write a letter addressed to the future recipient of the vault, or you can leave the contact completely up to us. Also, if the contents of the vault is small enough, there is the options of having it Owled to the recipient instead of having them come and retrieve it themselves. You do not need to make decisions on this matter until you seal the vault. All you need to do today is fill out this form and place an item in the vault. The vault will seal once you add your signature to it. In the meantime, you can access the time capsule just as you would access any other vault: by talking to a bank teller. There are, however, no keys for time capsule vaults. Instead, you'll need a secret phrase. The phrase can be written or spoken."

Griphook handed Harry the document he'd been marking on, along with a quill. Harry took the paper and read through it. It basically said the Henry Frost, on this thirty-first day of August in the year 1973, would be opening a time capsule vault that, once sealed, would not be opened again until...the date line here was blank and Harry thought about when would be a good time for his future self to receive access to the vault. With a mental shrug, Harry decided that his seventeenth birthday would be as good as any day, and quickly wrote down that date. The form went on to say that the vault was to be given to the first born son of James Potter. Harry wondered why it didn't mention him by name, and then realized that if he screwed up the time line too much, Harry Potter might not be born, but James Potter might still have a son.

Harry read on until he got to the second to last blank line on the parchment. This was the line for his security phrase. Harry briefly considered using 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good' or 'mischief managed', but neither of those seemed appropriate. He tried to think of a phrase that was important to him, or referenced Ron and Hermione in some kind of way, but he came up blank. Harry frowned. What could he use? A sentence flashed in the front of his mind and his frown deepened. He couldn't use _that_. He couldn't even pronounce that. But Griphook had said the secret phrase could be written. And he surely could spell it, having already seen it twice in Snape's scraggly writing. But why would he want to use a phrase he'd learned from Snape? Especially one that he didn't even know the meaning of? Still...

Harry picked up the quill and wrote down the chosen phrase before he changed his mind. _Ce n'est jamais vraiment fini_.

He handed the paper back to Griphook without signing it. The goblin read over what he'd written and cracked what for a goblin could be considered a smile. "'Ce n'est jamais vraiment fini,'" he read, and then translated, "It's never really the end. A most appropriate phrase for a time capsule vault, Mr. Potter."

Harry just gave a ghost of a smile, not wanting to admit that he hadn't known what the words meant. He tried to lock into his mind exactly how the goblin had pronounced the words.

"All I need now is an item to place into the vault," Griphook said.

Harry nodded. "One moment please." He reached into the outside zippered pocket of his messenger's bag and pulled out the empty potion's vial he'd placed in there for this very purpose. He then raised his wand to his head and concentrated. He slowly began to draw the wand away from his head and let the silvery stream of memory flow into the vial. Every single memory he had, every second of his life as Harry Potter, was copied and placed into the little glass container. It was amazing it all fit, but the memories were condensed and there was magic at work here. Finally the memories stopped flowing and Harry capped the vial. He handed it over to Griphook.

"Alright," the goblin said. "I will place this in the vault myself. We are all done here. Just one little reminder, don't share you secret phrase with anyone you do not trust. Anyone who comes in here asking to access your time capsule vault that happens to know the phrase will be granted access and will be able to add but not remove items from the vault."

"What?" Harry asked, genuinely surprised to hear this. If he'd known that, he wouldn't have chosen a phrase that Snape obviously knew. Though, he was trying his hand at the trusting Snape thing so he really shouldn't have been too worried.

"Time capsule vaults are traditionally used as a way to leave items for future generations of a family or to give coming of age gifts to young wizards. Limiting the access of the vault to one person made it difficult for people to add their contribution. So, it was made so everyone with the phrase could access and add to the vault, but only the primary account holder could remove items from the vault. That is why such vaults don't have keys."

Harry nodded slowly. That did make sense.

"Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Frost?" Griphook asked, leading Harry back into the main part of the bank.

Harry shook his head. "No sir, but thank you very much for all of your help today."

"You are quite welcome, Mr. Frost. Please come again."

Harry shook the goblin's hand, and with a few more parting words, departed the bank. Now he had shopping to do.


	3. Shops

**UchiSays: Finally, here's chapter three for your reading pleasure. Hope you enjoy it. Please leave a review. Also, of anyone would like to volunteer their services as beta for this story, I would very much appreciate it. Otherwise, you're all just going to have to bear with me when it comes to the amount of spelling/grammar mistakes within the story because I hate reading my own work even if it's just to edit it. Also, also, all the information about wands in the chapter was written with Pottermore as a reference. Again, please review.**

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**Chapter Three: Shops**

Harry stepped down the steps of Gringott's and looked out over the Alley. It was slightly busier than when he'd first gone into the bank, but still not as busy as he'd seen it before when the Wizarding World was at a time of peace. In the year 1973, Voldemort's first war had been officially raging for about three years. People were already scared to venture out for long periods of time, they'd whether stay behind the perceived safety of the wards surrounding their homes. The war was going to go on for another nine years and things weren't nearly as bad as they would become.

Deciding now was not the time to dwell on such matters, Harry forced himself to think about the here and now and decide where he should go first. He needed robes and supplies for Widgit. Also, with the amount of galleons he'd found in his vault, a new wand wasn't much of a splurge at all.

Ollivander's was on Diagon Alley's south side, the opposite direction of the other shops he would be visiting. Harry decided that would be smarter to go there first and then work his way back towards the Alley entrance. Mind made up, Harry turned himself in the direction of the wand shop and set on his way. He moved the crowd as quickly as possible, with his head down out of habit. No one was going to recognize him in this time, seeing as he'd yet to be born, but he was used to standing out in a crowd due to his celebrity status.

Harry almost stumbled over his own feet when he was struck by the sudden realization that in this time he could easily be mistaken for his father. Everyone always told him that he was the man's splitting image. And now he was the same age as his father in a time where the other could be easily recognized. If no one noticed the resemblance here in Diagon Alley, someone undoubtedly would when he reached Hogwarts. He wondered if there was a way to permanently alter his appearance. Nothing too drastic. Maybe just doing something to make his hair not stand up so badly. He'd seen in Snape's memories that his father's hair had been as unruly as his own and that his father like to mess it up even further to make him look cool. Maybe if his hair laid down, the likeness he shared with the older Potter wouldn't be so obvious.

He would have to see to it after he left Ollivander's, as he'd arrived at the wand shop by this point and there was no reason for him to turn around and go see to that right this second. No, he could buy a new wand now and worry about his looks while doing the rest of his shopping.

"Hello?" Harry called, pushing open the door to Ollivander's and stepping inside.

Ollivander immediately stepped out from between the rows of shelves and up to the counter. "Hello, lad, how may I help you? First wand?"

"Er...no," Harry said hesitantly, pulling out and setting it on the counter in front of the wand maker. Ollivander picked it up and examined it.

"Hawthorn. Unicorn hair. 10 inches. Reasonably pliant." A brief look of confusion flashed across his face, before he put the wand back on the counter and set Harry with a piercing gaze. "Nice quality wand. Is there a problem with it?"

"Well, it's not really my wand. You see, my wand broke and then I accidentally won this one. It works well enough, but it's not as good as my original."

"Yes, that would be the case. The core, unicorn, makes the most faithful wands. The remain firmly attached to their first owner whether or not they become an accomplished wizard. The wood, Hawthorn, is most at home with wizards that are conflicted. It's good for both healing and curses, and the wizard who wield it would have to be equally dual sided."

Harry frowned slightly. He didn't know a wand could say so much about a wizard. Draco Malfoy had proven to be one of the most conflicted wizard's Harry had met. He was caught in an internal struggle between doing what he felt was right in his heart and what he'd learned was right from his parents.

"It is not an easy wand to wield had it not chosen you itself," Ollivander continued. "We will have to measure you for a new one." He pulled out a familiar tape measure with silver markings. "Which his your wand hand?"

Harry held up his right arm and Ollivander immediately began to measure him. "I didn't know a wand could say so much about it's wizard," Harry stated as Ollivander measured him from shoulder to finger.

"Yes, every aspect of a wand tells you about the type of wizard it's likely to choose. Take these measurements for example. It used to be wand length was determined by the size of the wizard. A longer wand for a taller wizard. But I've learned longer wands tend to be drawn to bigger personalities and those with a more spacious and dramatic type of magic. While shorter wands favor a more refined type of spell casting. Mind you, no individual characteristic should be taken into consideration in isolation to the other. They wood and core could counteract the traits of the length. But even the flexibility of a wand tells you a lot about the man who holds it."

Ollivander dropped his tape measure in headed quickly to the shelves stacked with wand boxes. Harry could see him picking up boxes and putting them back down, before returning to the counter with a selection of four wands. He took the first wand out of the box and handed it to Harry. "Sycamore. Unicorn hair. 10 ¾ inches. Surprisingly swishy. Good for Charms." Harry took the wand and was about to wave it when it was suddenly snatched out of his hand. "That would have been a disaster," Ollivander stated, putting the wand away and handing Harry a different one. "Give this one a wave. Ebony. Dual core unicorn and dragon. 9 inches. One of my finest, without doubt, but a bit finicky for those with weak resolve."

Harry waved the wand and it gave a burst of dull orange sparks.

"Close, but not quite," Ollivander mused. "And these here won't do at all." He gathered the wands and disappeared back into the rows of shelves.

"Um..." Harry said, raising his voice to be heard from the back. "My first wand, the one that chose me, was holly and phoenix feather." Snape had said Harry had the power to change time, buying his wand before his future self was just a small change all things considered. "Maybe you have something similar to that?"

"Here's the thing about wands, lad," Ollivander called back to him, "As you know, they choose the wizard, but they choose based on potential. A wand responds to a wizard's magic as it is now and what it would become under ideal conditions. Rarely does a wizard live in those ideal conditions and their magic ends up taking on a completely different shape. And when the magic changes, the wand changes with it. It grows with the wizard, adapts so that it always suits them. This is why wizards don't have to buy a new wand after every life changing event. Your first wand always works with you because it grows as you grow. Lives as you live."

Ollivander returned to the front with a few more boxes. "Now, say a wizard puts down their wand and doesn't use it for years. They continue to grow and change, but their wand remains as it was when it was set down. When the wand is picked back up, it would not work as well for them as it once did. Or, say a wizard breaks their wand, but then are given the chance to hypothetically go back in time to a time before they initially purchased that wand and they intend to buy it all over again. With the way their magic has grown and changed, they might as well be a completely different person stepping through those doors. The likelihood that the same wand would choose them again is very slim indeed. Unless you think you're the exact same person you were when you first bought that holly and phoenix feather wand, do you believe it'll choose you again?"

Harry closed his eyes and was assaulted by images of the life he'd lived, how much he had grown and changed over the years. He doubted being on the front-lines of a war was the ideal conditions his wand had predicted would shape him. He was so different from the awestruck eleven year old that had first stepped into Ollivander's, Harry barely recognized that boy and he doubted his wand would either.

"No," Harry admitted. "I'm not the same person I was."

"Of course you're not. You're barely the same person you were ten minutes ago. How could you be the same person you were years ago? Now, try this one."

It took almost half an hour, but eventually Harry was paired with a wand. "English oak. Phoenix feather. 11 inches. Slightly springy. A very good wand. English oak accepts only wizards of great strength, courage, and fidelity. It also has a propensity for wizard of powerful intuition and, often, an affinity for magic of the natural world. This wand is one for good times and bad times. It's a friend as loyal as the wizard who deserves. It's said that Merlin's own wand was English oak. It's a very good wand indeed."

Harry was content with his new wand. Despite having not gone through the same trials with it as he had his holly wand, Harry felt a connection with it. And he felt much about it the way he felt about Widgit. The holly wand was Harry Potter's. This oak wand was Henry Frost's. Harry Potter's journey had ended and the holly wand was broken. Henry Frost's journey was just beginning and the oak wand was starting with him."

After paying for his new wand, Harry dropped Malfoy's wand into the depths of his messenger's bag and stepped out of the shop.

Not much had changed in the Alley since he'd first entered the shop. Not many people hung around near Ollivander's shop since it was so close to the entrance of Knockturn Alley. Harry rejoined the crowd of pedestrians and made his way towards Madam Malkin's. A few doors down from Ollivander's, someone jostled Harry and he ended up stumbling into the doorway of a nearby shop. The person who bumped him called out a halfhearted apology and continued on their way.

Harry was about to continued on his way, when he happened to glance into the window of the doorway he'd stumbled into. It was a shop he'd never seen before, most likely it no longer existed in his own time. It seemed to have just opened recently in this time, there was a banner hanging up on the back wall inside the shop that proclaimed their grand opening. It was an optometrist and eyeglasses shop.

Harry had only been to an optometrist a few times in his life. After a vision screening in primary school, he'd been told he needed glasses. His aunt had taken him to the eye doctor and gotten his prescription. She'd bought him to cheapest frames offered and that was that for years, until another vision screening at school said he needed a new prescription and she'd had to take him back. She'd always chosen his frames based on their price, caring nothing at all for their aesthetic appeal.

Harry didn't really hate his glasses. He had at first, because kids picked on him about them. But now, they were just a tool. They served a purpose and he wore them with little thought. He was literally lost without them, and over time they'd become part of his image. The big round frames were associated with Harry Potter.

That being said, Harry seemed to be trying to distinguish Henry Frost separately from Harry Potter. Perhaps Henry Frost shouldn't wear Harry Potter's glasses. Harry stepped into the shop.

The shopkeeper, a small woman with wild red hair, was perched on a stool behind the counter, her feet up and the stool balancing on just two legs as she leaned back. There was a book open in her lap, holding her rapt attention. She didn't even glance up when she heard the bell over the door ring at Harry's entrance. "We do not sell looking glasses here, nor spyglasses, nor drinking glasses. Please try Wiseacres on the Alley proper."

"I'm actually looking for eyeglasses," Harry said.

She looked up from her book in surprise at the words. "Really?" She asked, sounding a bit excited. "Actual eyeglasses? I haven't had a customer looking for eyeglasses since we opened."

"Well, I need actual eyeglasses. Well, actually just a different set of frames."

The shopkeeper squealed in delight. "You'd think the Wizarding World had a cure for nearsightedness based on how few people come here looking for actual glasses. But their only a step above the Muggle world really. They have treatments, all of which are extremely risky and likely to leave you blind. Not worth it if you ask me. I've seen Wizards in glasses, but apparently they call them spectacles or eye lens. Opening a shop with the word 'glasses' on the door has brought all types here, but no one looking for eyeglasses."

She talked quickly and moved her hands in broad, clumsy gestures. Harry could barely keep up with all she was saying, but he she smiled and nodded pretending to be following her words. "Do you have your prescription?" She asked.

Harry frowned. He hadn't thought about needing a prescription. He opened his mouth to reply, but the shopkeeper spoke before him.

"Stupid question. Of course you do. It's right there on your face." She grabbed Harry's glasses and pulled them from his face before he think to stop her.

Harry was practically blind without his glasses. Everything around him became and unpleasant blur and he had to fight the urge to put his hands up and try to feel his way around. He felt like Velma in the Scooby-Doo show. _I can't see a thing without my glasses._

Before he could make a protest, he heard the woman casting a charm on his glasses and then they were thrust back into his hands. "You're quite blind, aren't you?" She said. Harry settled his glasses back on his face, just in time for the woman to grab his arm and drag him across the store. "These are my selection of frames. Choose the ones you think best suit you and it should take just about an hour to have them fixed to your prescription and with any extra charms you might require."

The selection was small but very diverse. It ranged from simple rectangular frames to gaudy frames in the shape of wings. There was a whole spectrum of colors and some had atrocious gems stones attached to them. Harry disregarded half of the frames right off the back.

"I think you'd look lovely in these," the shopkeeper said, picking up a pair of red horn-rimmed frames. "Or these," she added, grabbing a pair of large, oval, copper colored wire rimmed glasses.

"Er..." Harry tried to think of a nice way to say he didn't like either of those. He glance around and saw a pair of simple black rectangular frames and grabbed them quickly. "I like these," he said.

"Oh, those are nice, too." Harry could hear the disapproval in her voice, but didn't let it bother him. He really did like these frames best. They were simple and stylish and would make people notice his eyes instead of just noticing his glasses. "Would you like any special charms on them?"

"Charms?"

"We offer a large variety of eyeglasses care charms. Unbreakable. Impermeable. Anti-Summoning. Scratch resistant. Glare resistant. Dirt repellant. Transitional lens that darken in brighter lighting. We can even charm them invisible, though I would recommend that in combination with anti-summoning or else you'll never be able to find them."

Harry had to admit, most of those charms sounded quite useful. "I would like some charms."

It took five minutes to work out what all charms needed to be added and to calculate a price. "It'll take about an hour to get this done. I could owl them to you afterward or you can come back and pick them up."

"Please owl them to the Leaky Cauldron," Harry answered without thought. He feared that if he stepped into this shop again, this too lively woman would never let him escape.

"Alrighty, then, thank you for you service. Please visit again."

Harry left the shop quickly and made in to Madam Malkin's without further issue.

Even twenty years in the past, Madam Malkin was the same straight-laced, business minded woman Harry was used to. He was the only customer in the shop she had him up on a stool being measured after two quick questions. She focused entirely on her task without any extra conversation. It was a relaxing change after being explained things by goblins, dealing with Ollivander's tendency to ramble, and being set upon by the woman in the glasses shop.

Harry ordered both a set of Hogwarts' robes and some everyday clothes from her. She had him measured and out the door in under ten minutes, promising to have his clothes ready and sent to the Leaky by the evening. Harry then asked her if she knew of somewhere he could go to see about his hair and after asking exactly what he wanted done to his hair, she directed him to a nearby cosmetics store that sold hair lengthening potions.

Harry found the cosmetics store with little difficulty and bought the potion without anything noteworthy happening.

His last stop of the day was Eeylops' Owls, where he was suddenly faced with the fact that he didn't know what type of owl Widgit was so he didn't know what types of treats he'd favor or whether or not he'd need a specialty cage. Harry stood there, staring at the array of owl supplies, lost.

"Can I 'elp you with somefin?" A voice called from behind him.

Harry turned around, startled and a bit shocked at being caught off guard. He blushed. "I friend just bought we an owl, but I don't know what type it is or what type of supplies to get it."

"Well, dat's an easy un." Harry didn't know what type of accent the man was speaking with, but it was thick and a bit hard to decipher. "'ow big is zit?"

"Er...about thirteen-ish centimeters."

"Real easy un. S'only t'ree type of owls dat small. Dere's yo Elf Owl. Long Whiskered Owlet. And de Tamaulipas Pygmy Owl. C'mon."

He led Harry across the store to where the smaller owls were kept. After looking at the three types of owls the man listed, Harry figured out Widgit was an Elf Owl. This led to the man talking Harry into buying a cactus, because Elf Owls were indigenous to the southwestern United States and in their natural habitat lived in old woodpecker holes in cacti. The type of cactus the bird really lived in was too big to take to Hogwarts, but Eeylop's offered miniature versions of the plant.

Harry bought the cactus, a cage, and insect owl treats. With his shopping finally done, Harry headed back to the Leaky Cauldron.


	4. Changes

**UchiSays: **Hello lovelies, I am so very sorry for the delay, but I have here for a brand spanking new chapter that's even been beta'd courtesy of the darling Ella (MysteriouslyMe). I hope you all enjoy. Also, bid farewell to Carrie, for this is the last you'll be seeing of her for a while (possibly forever depending on what you guys think of her, btw what are your opinions of Carrie I intend to use her a lot later, but not if you guys don't like her, let me know!) Anyway, no promises as to when I'll have the next chapter up, but hopefully it'll be soon. Much gratitude for all the reviews and favorites, I hope you all continue reviewing. I love you all.

~Itami

* * *

**Chapter Four: Changes**

Widgit had let out a happy sounding trill when he had seen the treats Harry had brought for him. He'd swallowed down five of the insect treats (nipping at Harry's hand until he'd conceded when Harry had tried to stop him at three), then had climbed into the hollow cactus plant leaving only his large yellow eyes visible as he watched Harry's every little movement.

Harry didn't pay any attention to the owl as he collapsed onto the bed and took a deep breath to relax himself after that eventful trip to Diagon Alley. He closed his eyes, intending to just rest for a moment, the next thing he was aware of was a knocking at his door. Harry went from asleep to awake an instant, without any of that any between grogginess, a habit formed during his travels in search of Voldemort's Horcruxes. They had been in constant danger of being ambushed by Death Eaters or Snatchers and a second wasted blinking the sleep out of eyes could be the difference between life and death.

Harry lay in bed, taking in his surroundings with his hand clasped firmly around his wand and a stunning spell ready on his lips, before he remembered exactly where (and when) he was. There was another knock at his door, this time accompanied by a woman's voice. "Harry, it's Carrie! Open up or I'll open it myself!"

"Coming!" Harry called back, rolling out of bed and smoothing down his clothes in a bid to make them look like he hadn't just slept in them. Judging by the light coming through the window, Harry guessed he'd been sleeping for at least three hours. He stumbled over to the door on awkward feet and yanked the door open with a sheepish smile.

"You missed dinner," Carrie admonished the moment she caught sight of him. "I saved you some shepherd's pie and treacle tart. I also accepted a couple of owls on your behalf." She barged her way into the room with a tray of food and a couple of wrapped parcels floating behind her. She crossed the room and plopped down on Harry's bed, scooting to the middle and crossing her legs. With a flick of her wand, the parcels sat themselves down on the desk and the tray landed on the bed in front of her. She immediately grabbed one of the plates of food and started eating. Harry stood at the door, silently marveling at this woman's boldness.

"What?" Carrie asked with a mouth full of food hidden behind a hand. "I haven't eaten yet."

Harry sighed; it seemed to be his destiny to be surrounded by the most headstrong women in the world. "Make yourself comfortable," he mumbled, heading over to the desk to sift through his packages, ignoring the larger ones baring the Madam Malkin's seal, and grabbed the smallest one that he assumed to be his new glasses. He figured it was best to put them on as soon as possible to get used to the new prescription, as it was likely to cause headaches and a bit of disorientation for at least the first day or so. He unwrapped the parcel and read over the list of spells and charms before replacing the glasses on his face with the new ones.

"Ooh, snazzy frames," Carrie cooed, not bothering to hide her mouth full of food this time. Harry blinked owlishly at her, before crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Here, help yourself," Carrie said, passing him the other serving of shepherd's pie from the tray. Right on cue, Harry's stomach grumbled loudly, so he took the plate of food and dug in enthusiastically.

Carrie kept up a steady stream of conversation as they ate; sometimes she even bothered to chew and swallow before opening her mouth. She mostly spoke about the things she was learning during her St. Mungo's residency and about the regular patrons of the Leaky. When they'd finished dinner and dessert, Carrie lounged on Harry's bed and Harry just sat there watching her, not sure what to say. Silence reigned until it was broken, unsurprisingly, by Carrie.

"What's this?" She asked, grabbing the vial of hair lengthening potion Harry had left sitting on the nightstand. Before Harry could answer, Carrie uncorked to vial and wafted the fumes toward her nose with a casual flick of her wrist. "Hair lengthening potion?" She asked with a small frown. "New spectacles and new hair? Trying to remake yourself, Harry?"

"Something like that," Harry mumbled.

"Well then," Carrie said, recapping the phial and tossing it to Harry. "Drink up and I'll help you cut and style."

"What?" Harry asked dumbly, still tired and not quite caught up with Whirlwind Carrie. She smiled and mimed drinking the potion. "Oh," Harry mumbled, uncorking the phial and swallowing it down quickly, not wanting to taste it. His scalp started tingling as soon as the potion hit him stomach. Crossing the room, he stood in front of the wall mounted mirror and watched as his hair began increasing in length and spilling down his back. It stopped growing when it reached just beneath his bum and Harry wasn't sure if the headache he got was from the new glasses or the sudden weight on his head.

"You look nice with long hair," Carrie commented, grabbing a lock of his hair and twirling it around her finger. "You should keep it this long."

Harry shook his head. "Too long. It'll get in the way and require too much work."

"Just a thought," Carrie replied, releasing his hair and raising her wand. "How short do you want it?" Harry was a bit hesitant to allow a woman he'd just met point a wand at his head, but he reminded himself that he was twenty-four years in the past and there was no need to be paranoid because no one here was out to get him. "How about to here?" Carrie offered, pressing her finger between his shoulder blades. "A lot more manageable but still longish and cute. It'll frame your face nicely and if it gets to be too burdensome, it can easily be pulled into a ponytail."

Harry nodded his head in agreement to her assessment. "Alright," he mumbled.

Carrie grinned and lifted her wand. Noting how Harry flinched at the movement, his hand reaching unconsciously for his own wand, her smile faltered for a second. "Don't worry," she placated, "I'm going to use a mild severing charm intended for cosmetic purposes only. It literally cannot be used against living things. It can cut hair and threads, but not skin, see?" She held out her arm and aimed her wand at it, clearly pronouncing the spell. Harry saw it leave her wand and hit her arm, but her skin showed no affect. Harry committed the spell to memory. It might not do much of anything in a fight, but it was sure to have its uses.

After Harry gave his consent, Carrie once more lifted her wand and aimed it at his head. She carder her fingers through his hair, lifting it and clearly intoning the spell each time she said it. Cutting his hair with magic didn't take as long as it would with scissors, but still took longer than Harry had expected it to.

"What's this?" Carrie asked, tracing a finger across Harry's scar, causing him to flinch and move away from her. No one except himself had ever really touched his scar before. Plenty of people had gawked at it as if it was some holy relic, but no one had dared to touch it. "Sorry," Carrie said, holding her hands up in a movement meant to look nonthreatening. "I shouldn't have touched. You may have noticed; I have a bit of a problem with impulse control."

"Its fine," Harry mumbled, covering the scar with his hand. Carrie opened her mouth as if she wanted to ask him something, probably about the origins of the scar, but seemed to decide against.

"I can make it so your fringe hide it, of you want?" she said instead.

Harry gave a small smile and nodded, not knowing what to say. Carrie smiled back and raised her wand again. She cast the severing charm over twenty times before she was satisfied with his hair.

"Well, aren't you the most handsome bloke I've seen in a while," Carrie mused, tapping her wand against her hand with a satisfied smile.

Harry looked at himself in the mirror, and was surprised by how much new glasses and longer hair changed his appearance. He still recognized himself, but the difference was noteworthy. The rectangular frames and the fall of his hair made his face seem sharper, not pointy like Malfoy's but less round and babyish in his thirteen year old form. The glasses also made his eyes seem less large and doe like. Their distinct almond shape were subtly accented instead of so strongly emphasized like his old glasses had made them. His hair fell around his shoulders with a pronounced wave to it; it was thick and lush and actually laid sort of flat, save for a few errant locks.

The sweeping fringe she'd given him to hide his scar came off as slightly feminine with his long hair, but it wasn't horribly so and he liked it. Though, Harry did wish that he could remove the scar altogether instead of just hiding it behind his hair. But at the same time, he was glad to hold on to that one thing that made him Harry Potter. He was all for remaking himself and defining Henry Frost as someone entirely different from Harry Potter, but Harry Potter was who he really was and he didn't want to lose himself entirely.

A loud hoot echoed through the room and Widgit flew out of his cactus and over to Harry, landing as a barely felt weight on his shoulder. The owl hooted again and pressed itself against the side of Harry's neck. He was almost completely concealed by Harry's hair and seemed content with the position. Harry smiled softly at the bird's reflection in the mirror.

"Well, Harry, I have to get going," Carrie said suddenly. "I'll be back tomorrow, bright and early, to take you to King's Cross. Make sure you have all your stuff packed and ready. And get some proper rest!"

With a wave of her wand, the plates they'd eaten off stacked themselves on the tray and floated over to the door.

"Thank you, Carrie," Harry said with a genuine smile. Forceful as she was, Carrie was really kind and Harry appreciated her efforts.

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you tomorrow."

After Carrie was gone, Harry just stood in place for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Widgit let out a soft hoot and nipped Harry's ear, pulling him from this thoughts and prompting him into action. "I going to pack my trunk," Harry stated, "You might want to move or else I'll unbalance you." The over opinionated avian gave Harry's ear another nip before hopping off his shoulder and flying back to his cactus, disappearing inside the hollow.

Harry grabbed his satchel from where he'd dropped it and opened the large flap. "_Accio_ trunk," he said, pointing his English oak wand at the bag. The trunk that Snape had bought for him flew out and landed on the floor in front of him with a loud thump. Harry opened the trunk, before once more pointing his wand at the messenger's bag. "_Accio_ course-books." The books flew out of the bag and Harry directed them into trunk with a wave of his wand. Next he summoned his potion's kit, quills, ink, and parchment, as well as his Quidditch gloves and broom. He didn't summon the two potion's racks, both because he knew that some potions reacted negatively to outside magic and because he'd decided to leave them in the bag. Really, he could have left all of his possessions in the bag, but had decided against it because Snape had purchased the trunk with the intent of Harry actually using it.

Setting his wand on the end table by the bed, Harry crossed to the desk and gathered the large wrapped parcels from Madame Malkin's and began to open them. The first one contained a full supply of Hogwarts' robes, with the school's insignia sewn on the breast; after he was sorted the magic stitched into the insignia would react to the Sorting Hat's magic and turn into his House crest. The tie and scarf in his house colors would be given to him by the school.

Harry took one of the robes and put it in his satchel so that he wouldn't have to open his trunk when it came time to change on the train. The rest he put into the trunk, taking care to make sure they remained neatly folded. He unwrapped the rest of the parcels and found casual clothing for wearing on weekends and to Hogsmeade. He set aside a set to wear the following morning. He'd wear them with the scuffed and ragged trainers he already had, but he'd purchased a new pair of shoes to wear with his school robes.

After everything that needed to go in the trunk was put away, Harry turned to the rest of his scattered belongings on the desk. His old glasses went into the moleskin pouch around his neck. While it was open, he removed his invisibility cloak from inside and moved it to the satchel. Malfoy's wand was moved from the satchel to the pouch, because the pouch only opened for him and if someone decided to go through his things without permission, it wouldn't do for them to find he had two wands. He put Widgit's treats in the messenger bag as well.

"I'm going to move your cactus to inside the cage," Harry warned the bird, before carefully picking up the plant and putting it in the cage. Widgit's large eyes peered out at him from inside the dark hole in the cactus but didn't complain about being moved. Harry situated the cactus in the back of the cage and left the door open in case Widgit wanted to come out during the night.

After double checking that everything was ready for the morning, Harry decided to take a quick shower and then go to bed.

…

Harry was woken again by a knock at his door. "Henry Frost," Carrie yelled through the barrier, "This is your one and only wake up call. If you're not downstairs in half an hour, I will hex you out of the bed and take you to King's Cross in your knickers."

Harry groaned, but dutifully rolled out of bed and called out "I'm up!" He barely stopped himself from calling her Aunt Petunia.

"Breakfast in ten!" Carrie called back, banging her fist against the door one last time.

Widgit let out a hoot that made it clear that he did not appreciate the wake up call. The look in his eyes seemed to say "'owls are nocturnal so if you humans wake me again, I'm going to peck some eyes out."

Harry rolled his eyes at the bird while inwardly question his own sanity. He'd had conversations with Hedwig plenty of times and she'd seem more the capable of understanding him and talking to her seemed normal, associating Widgit's hoots and looks with human derision was not normal at all. But there was something about Widgit that made it impossible not to know what the little owl seemed to be thinking, strong-willed and over opinionated feather duster that he was.

Harry went through his morning rituals on autopilot. Washing his face and brushing his teeth in the small water closet adjoining the room and dressing in the clothes he'd laid out the day before. His hair had become knotted and tangled during the night and Harry didn't know any charms to fix it, and since his short hair had only required fingers running through it to get some resemblance of tamed, he didn't own a comb. Harry carded his fingers through the mess and tried to work out the worst of the tangles. He decided he'd ask Carrie what was required for the proper upkeep of longer hair since the woman's chocolate brown hair hung all the way to her waist.

His clothes fit him well. He'd been accustomed to Dudley's too large castoffs for so long, having properly fitting clothes was new and exciting. It was too bad he was in his malnourished thirteen year old body. He was small and bony with barely a bit of muscle, but the cut of his clothing hid that mostly and he looked more slender than unhealthily thin. He couldn't wait until he reached his coming growth spurt. He hadn't grown properly tall, but at least he'd filled out some. Maybe this time around he could take nutrient potions or something to help fully correct the damage done by his childhood with the Dursleys. His dad had been slightly above average height; surely Harry could be just as tall.

Once fully ready, Harry turned to Widgit. "You ready, Dodo?"

Harry swore the owl rolled his eyes before flying over and landing on Harry's shoulder. Widgit used his beak and wings to pull Harry's hair around him so that he was completely hidden except for his eyes and he snuggled into the side of Harry's neck.

"You like that spot, huh?" A snapping beak was the only response Harry got to the question. "It was rhetorical anyway," Harry mumbled, closing Widgit's cage and placing it on top of his trunk. He hung the strap of his satchel on one shoulder to keep from disturbing Widgit.

Harry opened the door to leave the room and found a man standing outside it with a fist raised, poised to knock. Harry froze in surprise, his body tensing up for a second, before he relaxed and half raised his wand. "Er, sorry," the man mumbled. "Carrie sent me to help bring down your things."

"Oh," Harry said. "Thank you." He'd been prepared to float his trunk downstairs himself, but now remembered that he was technically thirteen here and wasn't suppose to be able to use magic outside of school without being cited by the Ministry. Harry stepped to the side and let the man enter the room and cast a levitation charm on his trunk and Widgit's cage. "Thank you," Harry said again as they made their way down the stairs.

"No problem," the man said.

"Harry!" Carrie called out when she saw him. "Sit over there; I'll bring your food in the moment. Leave his trunk there, Al, I'll handle it from here."

Harry sat at the table Carrie told him to. Widgit let out a soft complaint at being jostled by the movement. Harry had forgotten the bird was even sitting on him, he weighed so little. Elf Owls were the lightest owls in the world apparently and Harry couldn't help but wonder how the little bird would handle carrying large packages.

Speaking of packages, a nondescript box landed on the table in front of him, followed by a plate nearly overflowing with food. Carrie fell in the seat across from him with a smile. "I figured you'd need some help suddenly having all that hair to care for. The box has a few bottles of my favorite shampoos and conditioners and a list of cosmetic charms for untangling and such. A comb and brush and mirror too, because magic makes people lazy and combing your hair manually can be very relaxing."

Harry took the box and peeked inside. It contained exactly what Carrie said. "Thank you," he said with a large smile.

Carrie smiled back. "Hurry up and eat, you don't want to miss the train, do ya?"

He took the box of hair care supplies and put them in his satchel, before sliding the plate of food towards him and digging in.

…

Platform 9 ¾ Quarters was filled with its usual September first crowd when Carrie apparated Harry there. Parents and children were all pressed in together on the little platform, talking loudly and moving quickly while cats, toads, and owls called out from their cages. There were unfamiliar faces all around, but that was fine because the feel of the place was the same, and a familiar sense of giddiness welled up inside Harry. He was going back to Hogwarts.

"Well, Harry, I guess its goodbye for now. You're going to love Hogwarts, I just know it. Feel free to write me if you want. I want at least one letter telling me what house you're in, I have an inkling but I want to know and if I don't get at least that you're going to be dealing with a very unhappy witch the next time you enter the Leaky Cauldron, understand?"

"Yes ma'am," Harry replied with a small smile.

"What'd I say about calling me ma'am. I can still hex you right here and now!"

Harry laughed and Carrie did too.

"Now, for real," the Healer in training said, "Write me whenever you want. I love getting correspondence."

"Alright, promise." Harry said. "Thank you for everything."

"Don't mention it. You take care of yourself at that school and I'm sure we'll see each other again sooner or later."

A few more words passed between them, before Carrie took her leave just as the train whistled a final boarding call and Harry boarded the train. Remembering Snape's words about where he might find allies on the train, Harry headed all the way back to the last compartment.


End file.
